


Marks

by Amikotsu



Category: Naruto
Genre: Bonding, Childhood Friends, Day 6, Fluff, Friendship, KakaObi Week 2019, M/M, Soulmates, genin days
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-11
Packaged: 2019-10-26 14:30:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17747630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amikotsu/pseuds/Amikotsu
Summary: A red string wraps itself around Obito's left wrist, and then around Obito's heart. When the mark appears, he doesn't go out of his way to find his soulmate. Who could love someone like him?





	1. The Riverfront

Obito was born without a soulmate mark, his unblemished skin a tale of future heartbreak. The medics didn't know what to think of him, what to think about a baby born without a mark, so they pitied him. They told his parents that he'd never find love. There had never been another case where a child was born without a mark; therefore, he was the only one in Konoha without a match. His parents loved him. His grandparents loved him. That was enough. That had to be enough.

He was five, when he finally realized he was the only kid at the playground without a mark. He was five, when he met Rin for the first time. She had a small, purple rectangle on the back of her left ring finger. It was beautiful; she was beautiful. She'd saved him from some temperamental Inuzuka and his growling partner, a big dog with bared teeth and black, beady eyes. Rin stood in front of Obito and told the kid to _go away_. Obito had already taken a fist to the nose, and he had both hands over it, trying to stop the bleeding. He didn't want to take another fist to the face, didn't want to taste the blood as it trickled down the back of his throat. He was crying, when he first met Rin, and she didn't seem to care at all. She had him pinch his nose and tilt his head, while she used the napkins from around her ice cream cone to dab at the blood still on his face. She said she couldn't save his shirt, but he didn't care. The first time they'd met, she'd saved him. He swore, next time, he'd save her.

He was five, when he first met Kakashi. Obito had been late getting to the park, but his friends had waited for him, all six of them. Immediately, he'd noticed the seventh, a boy with shocking silver hair. He wanted to make a joke about the kid's mask, but Rin’s smile made him reconsider. He knew she wouldn't have liked it. Instead, they’d played kick the can. Obito had never lost a game! But then Kakashi won. Again and again, Kakashi won. Obito was five, when he realized he didn't really care for Kakashi. He envied the boy with raw talent, with a father who loved him. He was five, when he realized his parents were never coming back.

When he entered the academy, he thought things would change, but every course, every semester, brought failure. He was late everyday, and he was the dead last in his class. While everyone else had recess, he had to stay inside, trapped in detention. He'd slowly lost all of his friends. No one wanted to be friends with a _loser_ , as Kakashi had called him. But there was Rin, always Rin. Yes, he still had her. Something about Kakashi had changed: He seemed cold, distant. Kakashi had classmates, he had admirers, but he had no friends. Kakashi was the first to leave Obito, and he left Obito in the dust.

“Are you okay, Obito?” Rin walked next to him, head turned toward him to judge the sour expression on his face. “Is it about lunch?” She reminded him of when no one wanted to sit near him, of when everyone wanted to talk about Kakashi. Slowly, he shook his head. It wasn't about lunch at all.

“What's wrong with Kakashi?” He changed the subject. He ducked his head and dragged his feet, unable to talk about the fact that he had no other friends. Not anymore.

“What do you mean? He seemed fine, the last time we saw him.”

“No, something's wrong.”

“Why don't you go ask him?” She smiled that breathtaking smile and Obito couldn't help but smile back. He really needed to tell her that he liked her, but he'd backed out so many times. What did she see in him? Better yet, what did she see in Kakashi? “Look! He's by the river. Do you want me to wait?”

“Uh, no. I know you can't be late getting home. Your mom leaves for her mission today,” Obito said, shaking his head.

“Just be nice, Obito,” Rin reminded him, already turning to go. Obito frowned at her, but he didn't argue. He was always nice! Kakashi was always rude. “I'll tell my mom you said hi. See you later, Obito!”

Obito watched her go. When he lost her in the crowd, he finally turned toward the riverfront. Kakashi stood next to the water, a handful of rocks in one hand. He skipped stone after stone, watching them jump across the water. One. Two. Three. The rock sank, the ripples carrying out across the surface, and Kakashi pulled back and threw another. Obito crossed onto the grass, and then finally onto the dry dirt near the river. He nudged the toe of his right sandal into the dirt, bare toes curled to avoid touching the cracked earth. Kakashi glanced back at him, then went back to skipping rocks, as if Obito wasn't there at all.

“Shouldn't you be in detention?” Kakashi had a flat tone, like he really didn't care one way or the other. He sounded like that a lot, as if he didn't care about anyone but himself, as if everyone around him became annoyances. Obito felt as if he'd been swatted aside. He was like a honey bee on a wayward mission. He couldn’t allow his own irritation to bleed through. Rin’s reminder replayed in his head. Be nice, Obito.

“Sensei let me go. He said he didn't want to see my face anymore,” Obito frowned. He finally stood beside Kakashi, and he reached down to collect a few rocks of his own. “Shouldn't you be training?”

“You're the one who needs training,” Kakashi snorted. Another rock bounced across the water, then it sank. He didn't have anymore rocks, so he took one of Obito's. 

“I train! I was going to start right after this!” Obito threw his stone at the wrong angle, applied too much strength, so the rock hit the water and sank. He tried again, and the same thing happened. He’d never been very good at skipping rocks. “What's wrong with you anyway?”

“You're throwing it wrong. Watch,” Kakashi instructed him. Kakashi turned his hand and used a wrist motion. The rock hit the water and bounced several times, before it finally disappeared into the water below. Obito tried mimicking the motion and his rock skipped once. 

“I did it!” 

Obito grinned and turned to watch Kakashi throw another stone. Kakashi didn’t congratulate him, so the smile slipped from Obito’s face, replaced by another frown. He always seemed to frown around Kakashi. For some reason, Obito thought of the first time he’d met Kakashi. He remembered Kakashi winning, but he remembered the serious moment they’d shared. Kakashi had valued friendship then. He’d valued comrades. What had changed? What had happened to that young boy? He’d graduated, Obito supplied. Maybe that was it. Or maybe they’d never been friends at all. 

“Just because you’re a genin now doesn’t give you the right to throw away your friends,” Obito said, sinking another stone. Beside Obito, Kakashi had stopped, turning a rock around and around in his hand. “Rin’s worried about you,” Obito lied. He stopped skipping rocks and turned to look at Kakashi. His friend stared out at the pink clouds, tiny wisps like long brush strokes against the changing sky.

“I don’t need friends, and I don’t need someone worrying about me.”

“What’s your problem?” 

“You’re annoying.”

Obito threw the rocks in his hand, stones crashing into the calm water. He was stupid to think that he still had a friend in Kakashi, and he blamed whatever naivety that remained in his heart. The boy he first met on that summer day, all those months ago, wasn’t the same boy before him. He reached out and slammed his palms against Kakashi’s chest. When Kakashi didn’t react, Obito did it again. He tried to force the stranger in front of him to morph back into the boy he once knew, but nothing changed. He tried for a third time, but he didn’t get there. Kakashi grabbed Obito’s left arm and twisted; he applied enough pressure that Obito had automatically hissed in pain. Obito shouldn’t have put his hands on Kakashi, but he’d let his temper get the best of him. He spent so long trying to be better, trying to be stronger and smarter, trying to be someone worthy, but worthy of _what_? Kakashi had everything handed to him. Obito had to fight for everything. To hear that Kakashi spit on his friendships? Well, Obito couldn’t take it. In the silence that followed, in the tense moment they shared, Obito had one quiet thought. 

_Why am I never good enough?_

“Let me go,” Obito growled, using his other hand to try and pry Kakashi’s hands off his arm.

“Are you done?” Kakashi had that tone again. Obito couldn’t think of a word to describe it, other than to say that Kakashi sounded almost _bored_. 

“Yes, I’m done! I don’t care if you want to be lonely and unhappy!” Obito knew he was lying, but how he wished his words were truth. “You deserve it! All you do is look down on everyone. How’s your dad feel about that, huh? His son’s a--.” Obito didn’t get to finish, because Kakashi kicked his legs out from under him. Obito went down hard, the air knocked from his lungs. The back of his head cracked against the ground and black spots danced around him. Kakashi kneeled beside him, one shaking fist so close to Obito’s face. Obito brought his arms up to try and shield himself, but the fist remained, shaking, intimidating. 

“Don’t you ever talk about him again.”

“If you’re going to punch me, just do it already!”

“I’m not going to waste my time on someone like you.” Kakashi got back to his feet and kicked some dust into Obito’s face. He looked down and their eyes met, Kakashi’s clear and hard, while Obito’s watered. “Leave me alone.”

“Fine! I won't waste my time on _you_!”

Obito lay there, looking up at the changing sky, listening to Kakashi's fading footsteps. Obito was losing again, always losing. He couldn't even save one friendship. What kind of Hokage would that make him? He was a nobody. In the end, only his grandma seemed to believe in him, and he was reminded, only a daily basis, that she wouldn't always be there for him. If his eyes watered again, it was only because of the dust. 

He probably would have stayed there all night, if it weren't for the burning pain around his wrist. It felt like something white-hot had been wrapped around his wrist. When he raised his left hand to examine it, he saw something deep and red, a circle, like a bracelet, around his wrist. The skin was sensitive and raw, as if he'd truly had the mark burned onto him. He'd never seen anything like it before. Forcing himself into a seated position, he poked and prodded the inflamed skin until it began to bleed. It matched the splatter of blood let behind on the ground, right where his head had been.

“Hey, kid, are you okay?” An older man stopped beside the riverfront, one hand extended toward Obito. He helped Obito off the ground, then went back to leaning on his cane. “You must have hit your head pretty hard.”

“Huh? Yeah. I,” Obito stopped. He turned to look for Kakashi, but the boy was long gone. All that remained was a little patch of red. All he had left was the blood on the ground. “I fell,” he finally finished.

“Be more careful. Get that looked at.”

“Yes, sir!”

It was a thread, Obito decided. Near the entrance of the Uchiha district, his grandmother's home just another shape in the distance, he decided that the bloody line around his wrist was his own little red thread of fate. It was a reminder, really. He would beat Kakashi. Obito would _make_ Kakashi admit that Obito _wasn't_ a failure, that Obito _wasn't_ a loser. Kakashi would see him then. Everyone would see him then. Some part of him wished Kakashi would have hit him. It was a lot less embarrassing than admitting he let his guard down and was taken down by a basic leg sweep. It would have hurt a lot less. Maybe he would have had a reason to cry. Though he didn't cry. It was the dust. He'd never cry over something so stupid, over the loss of one friendship. He didn't need someone like _Kakashi_!

“You're late today, Obito.” 

He dragged himself into the kitchen and took a seat at the small table there. His grandmother turned from the stove and looked at him, a mischievous smile in place. He knew she was going to ask if he'd gone out with Rin. She was overly invested in Obito's relationship status. She kept saying she wanted grandkids. He wasn't even old enough for that!

“What happened to you?” She stopped stirring the food and moved the pan from the burner. She was slower than usual; she said she'd come down with something, but Obito wasn't sure what was wrong with her, not when she kept things from him. First, she examined his head, clicking her tongue once when she prodded at a small cut. “Did you get into a fight?”

“I fell,” Obito lied. He hated lying. He hated lying to his grandmother. She saw right through him. He raised a hand to try and feel the cut for himself, but he realized too late that he'd revealed his left wrist. 

“Obito!”

“I didn't do it! It just appeared! I promise!”

“It just _appeared_?”

“Yeah! I had a fight with Kakashi and it just appeared,” Obito quickly explained, allowing her to examine the red line. She rotated his wrist, examining the whole line, and then let him go. She sat in the chair across from him and folded her hands in her lap. “What's wrong? I'm okay! I can put some cream on it and a bandage. I don't think I need to see a medic.”

“Obito,” she said, her eyes on the table. Obito shifted in his chair, feeling pressured to say other words, to try other tactics. “That's your soulmate mark.”

“Real funny, Grandma,” Obito said, forcing a laugh. When she didn't laugh, he let his own laughter fade. They sat in silence, while he looked at the angry red mark around his wrist. “I don't have a soulmate. Remember? You told me I didn't have one.”

“You said it appeared after your fight with Kakashi?” She waited for him to respond, so he nodded.

“I lost,” he admitted, embarrassed. She didn't seem to care about whether he won or lost. Her lips were pressed tightly together, and her eyes met his. “What? You're scaring me,” he joked, forcing yet another laugh. He could have cut the tension with a knife.

“I think you need to talk to Kakashi.”

“I'm never talking to him again! We're not friends anymore. We were probably never friends in the first place. He's a di--um, sorry.”

“I don't ask a lot out of you, and you know this, so I'm asking you to talk to Kakashi, Obito.”

She didn't say anything more. That night, she cleaned the cut on the back of his head and helped secure some bandages around his wrist. In the dark, hours after he should have been asleep, he unwrapped the bandages and examined the red line, his soulmate mark. Someone, somewhere, had a mark just like his. Maybe she was looking at her mark too. Maybe she was restless too.

_His soulmate wasn’t Rin_.


	2. Orange Juice

Obito didn’t see Kakashi until after graduation, when Obito finally became a genin. Obito found him at the same riverfront, skipping rocks. He thought back to the last time they’d spoken, the harsh words that he’d said. He’d found out about Kakashi’s father, about the White Fang. No wonder Kakashi had been so angry. Obito didn’t remember much about his parents, just that his mother loved singing to him, just that his father was always away. He hadn’t found their dead bodies slumped over in one of the rooms at his old house. His parents hadn’t chosen to die. It had just happened. War made things like that happen. Obito didn’t know when his hands had turned to fists, nor when he finally left the path and headed down toward the river. He didn’t know how to approach Kakashi. He didn’t know where to start or what to say. He considered apologizing, but their spat had been months ago, and he assumed he wasn’t important enough for Kakashi to remember. Obito thought of when they’d once played kick-the-can. The park where they’d played wasn’t far from where they stood. Growing up was hard.

“I thought I told you to leave me alone.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard I don’t listen very well.”

Kakashi glanced over at Obito, then went back to skipping rocks. If he didn’t want to initiate conversation, that left Obito. Apologizing looked better and better. Obito reached down to collect a couple of rocks from Kakashi’s small pile and then threw them, one right after the other. He had enough time to get home and show his grandma his hitai-ate; he had enough time to get back and enjoy a celebratory dinner. But he stayed. His hands empty, Obito slowly unrolled the bandages around his left wrist. He’d never stopped wearing bandages. He didn’t know what to do with a soulmate mark, didn’t know how to bring it up in conversation, so he hid it from the world. He thought that if he never showed anyone, that maybe he’d never know disappointment. Maybe he’d held out for Rin. Maybe he was still holding out for Rin. He just couldn’t share that part of himself, not yet. And yet he shared it with Kakashi.

“I’m sorry,” Obito said, selecting the only conversation-starter that he knew. Kakashi looked over at him, then at the mark. Obito expected a lot of things, but silence wasn’t one of them. “I got this that day.”

“It’s you?”

“What? What do you mean by ‘it’s you?’” Obito lowered his left hand, fingers tapping out a cadence on his thigh. Kakashi didn’t respond, so Obito assumed their conversation had stalled. “Tomorrow is team placement day,” Obito said, switching gears.

Kakashi didn’t have anything to say about that either; in fact, he turned and started walking away. Obito stumbled over the pile of rocks Kakashi had left behind, but he easily caught up with his former friend. Obito didn’t know where they were going. The last Obito knew, Kakashi lived in his family’s traditional home in a quieter part of the village. Instead, they were heading toward the center of the village, down into heavy foot traffic and the heavenly scent of freshly cooked food. He didn’t want to ask where they were going. He didn’t want Kakashi to leave him, not without saying something. Obito had finally graduated, and Kakashi had nothing at all to say to him. Obito thought of a million different ways the day could have gone, yet he’d never expected pure dismissal. He’d expected harsh words. He’d prepared for harsh words.

“Are you going to follow me all the way home?”

“If that’s what it takes to get you to acknowledge me, then yes, I’ll follow you all the way home, Kakashi.”

“You aren’t even this persistent with Rin.”

“I guess you’re important then.”

Obito didn’t realize what he’d said until after Kakashi stopped walking. Obito ran right into a light pole and fell onto his butt. Rubbing his head, he glared up at the pole. His hitai-ate had absorbed most of the blow, but his head still hurt. He should have been watching where he was going, but Kakashi had stopped, and so he’d looked back. It was Kakashi’s fault. After checking to make sure no one had seen his display, Obito forced himself to his feet. Kakashi grabbed a handful of Obito’s shirt and started dragging him down the street. At one point, Obito’s sandals slid right across the ground. 

“Where are we going? Stop yanking me around. I can walk!”

“You walked into a pole.”

“I was looking at you! And thanks for asking how my head is!”

Kakashi stopped walking and released Obito’s shirt. Obito looked down at his wrinkled clothing, then back at Kakashi; he tried his best to smooth out the wrinkles, but he looked as if he’d just rolled out of bed. Kakashi opened the door to an apartment building and went inside, leaving Obito out of the street. Obito hesitated, but he quickly took off after the boy. He had to jog up two flights of stairs, but he found Kakashi standing in front of a door marked with 2A. It was a normal apartment building. Obito didn’t know why he had pictured Kakashi living somewhere dark and creepy, like an abandoned building. When Kakashi opened the door to his apartment, he moved aside and let Obito enter. The place wasn’t really furnished. There was a kitchen, separated from the main room by a bar, and there were two doors down the hall, definitely a bedroom and a bathroom. Kakashi didn’t have living-room furniture. He didn’t have a kitchen table. He had two stools at the bar, and that was it. The only other decorations were weapons, which were organized and hanging on the wall to the left.

“Did you just move in?” Obito removed his sandals and went to the bar, where he claimed one of the stools. Kakashi went to the kitchen. “Do you need some furniture? I know a cousin that’s trying to get rid of a couch. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“I moved in three months ago,” Kakashi said. He turned away from the fridge, two glasses of orange juice on hand. Obito thought he’d circle around the bar and take the other stool, but he stood on the other side and sipped his juice.

“Thanks.” Obito took a drink and slid the glass back and forth across the counter, going from one hand to the other. He didn’t know why he was there, drinking orange juice with someone who had wanted nothing to do with him, but he wasn’t leaving. He couldn’t leave. “Tomorrow is team placement day,” he tried again.

“They let you graduate?” Kakashi’s words had no bite, but they still made Obito defensive. Kakashi always knew what to say to rile him up. No one should have had that kind of control over him, but it was Kakashi. Kakashi had a way with words. Kakashi reached across the bar and grabbed Obito’s left wrist, so the glass of juice went sliding across the bar. “You didn’t draw this on?”

“Why the hell would I draw a red line around my wrist?” Obito tried pulling away, but Kakashi tightened his grip. Kakashi seemed far too interested, which was odd. Obito didn’t like it. “It’s stupid.”

“You’ve never seen this before?”

“What’s with your interrogation? No! I didn’t draw it on, and I’ve never seen this mark before.” Kakashi released Obito’s wrist and Obito rubbed at it, staring at the red mark left behind by Kakashi’s fingers. He didn’t have to try to choke the life out of Obito’s wrist! Silence settled between them. Minutes ticked by. “Wait. Have _you_ seen this mark before?”

“No.”

“You’re lying! Tell me!”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“ _Obito_.”

“ _Kakashi_.”

They stared at one another, maintaining eye contact up until the point where Obito was forced to blink. Without the sound of a television in the background, Obito heard noise from the street below Kakashi’s front windows. He heard a woman shouting about tomatoes, followed by a man calling out about dango. The noise was like idle chatter, something easily lost to the background. He didn’t know when, but Kakashi had collected Obito’s glass from down the bar and placed it near his left hand. Obito tried to imagine the girl with a soulmate mark like his, just as he’d done so many times before, but he couldn’t conjure a face. He didn’t want to let the mark come between him and Rin, but he didn’t want to miss an opportunity to meet his other half. He wanted to meet someone who could, in a way, complete him. But he’d hidden the mark. Putting himself out there just promised pain. He really didn’t think he could handle rejection. He knew its bitter taste all too well.

Kakashi set his empty glass next to the sink and started removing the guards on his left arm; then, he moved the black sleeve further up on his arm. Obito paid no attention. He found himself staring at the weapons hanging on Kakashi’s wall, all organized, all clean. Kakashi must have spent a lot of time caring for the blades. Even the kunai and shuriken looked pristine. Obito shouldn’t have, but he wondered if any of those weapons had belonged to Kakashi’s father. Obito still had his parents’ weapons. He intended to use them, when he graduated from D-rank missions. One blade stood out from the others, one at the top of the collection. The hilt of the sword wasn’t in great shape, so it was used often. That blade probably came from Kakashi’s father.

When Obito looked back at Kakashi, he noticed that the arm guards were gone from both arms, both sleeves out of the way. Obito saw the thin red line wrapped around Kakashi’s left wrist. The red line looked as if someone had taken a fine brush and made one simple stroke around the wrist. There was a swirl at one point, just as there was one at Obito’s. The lines were exactly the same. Kakashi had a red thread of fate.

“Oh,” Obito managed to say, the response more sound than word. Kakashi was brave. Obito liked to think that Kakashi hadn’t hidden the mark. He liked to think that Kakashi wore it with pride, where he had hidden his own. All of those sleepless nights, where Obito poked and prodded that thin line, had been wasted. He’d spent the time on daydreams of some girl he’d never met. Obito didn’t care about the specifics, whether his soulmate was a girl or a boy -- he had someone, truly had someone, and he’d known him all along.

“Why did you show me your mark?”

“My grandma told me I needed to talk to you. I thought you might know something. That day, after you left, it appeared. I’d never had one, before then. I was the only one in Konoha without a mark.” Obito looked down into his glass of juice, then polished off the glass. Kakashi reached over and took the cup, placing it next to his own. 

“What do you want from me, Obito?”

“I matter,” Obito whispered, meeting Kakashi’s eyes. Obito paused, took a deep breath, and continued. “I am someone. I might not be better than you, I might be _awful_ at a lot of things, but I matter too. I’m going to be a great shinobi, and then I’ll be an even better Hokage, and you’ll acknowledge me. Everyone will acknowledge me.”

“You want me to acknowledge you?” Kakashi didn’t seem surprised, but he’d gotten so much better at hiding his emotions. The mask hid his mouth, so Obito saw no curvature of Kakashi’s lips, no subtle twitch or motion. Obito only had Kakashi’s eyes, and those almost seemed endless. He couldn’t read Kakashi the way that Kakashi read him, so he waited. He waited for something more than just another question. “Does my opinion really matter that much to you?”

“Yes, it does.”

“You are probably the worst shinobi I have ever met,” Kakashi said, igniting that hot temper, drawing Obito into yet another war, “but I’ve always acknowledged you.”

“You’re mean spirited and rude! You told me to quit trying to be a shinobi more times than I can count -- and don’t make fun of my math skills either!”

“And you work harder every day, don’t you?” The bar that separated them from one another seemed longer, wider, and Obito thought he might lose his way in that place. Kakashi must have thought his words were motivational, and maybe they were, in a roundabout way, but he could have easily just said the words Obito longed to hear. That Obito mattered. That someone, other than Rin, other than his grandma, was watching him.

“You’re a terrible friend,” Obito replied, after too much time had passed. Both of them were out of words, but only for the moment. Obito went back to staring at Kakashi’s wrist, at the simple line that bound them together. “So what do we do now? Do you want to call me annoying and kick me out of your apartment?”

“No, I’m not going to kick you out of my apartment.” Kakashi looked right past Obito, out at the afternoon sky. He didn’t know what to do. Obito realized that on his own.

“Are you going to hide from me?” Kakashi shook his head. “Well, what do you want from me?”

“I don’t know,” Kakashi answered. He didn’t pause; he didn’t hesitate at all. Obito frowned, but he waited to speak. Something told him that Kakashi wasn’t done talking, or maybe they were both too tight-lipped to make any progress. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”

“You’re going to pick back up where you left off, and maybe this time, you won’t have to do it alone.” Kakashi didn’t nod, but he didn’t have to. He understood. “So, we’re soulmates.”

“I guess so.”


End file.
